


The Winner Takes It All

by mary_twig



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-26 01:09:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15652683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mary_twig/pseuds/mary_twig
Summary: For Leia Organa Zhelldays meant meeting her friends, having fun, and eating delicious dinner. What would happen if she realized now was her turn to prepare food for her companions? Umm... Is there any scoundrel who could help?Multi-chapter fic (more chapters to be added soon)Pre-ESB. Rating will perhaps reach T in the next chapter.





	The Winner Takes It All

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my dear friend, graciecatfamilyband, who agreed to beta this story. Your work is very appreciated and crucial to this piece. You make such a great beta and companion in struggles of writing. Mwah! x
> 
> And hey - she writes fanfics too! You can find her work on this page. Check out her profile: imnothere24. I guarantee her stories are only of high quality.
> 
> If you like this story, leave a word or two. :) Thank you for reading!
> 
> ~ Mary Twig

Glasses of half-consumed Corellian wine and plates bearing remnants of delicious food lay on a couple of portable mess hall tables, which had been brought onto the _Millennium Falcon_ by a few young men from the Rogue Squadron. Nevertheless, the current center of activity took place at a different table now, the only one not designated to be for food, but for cards.

It looked as if almost the whole Rebel Alliance had assembled in the _Falcon_ ’s lounge. Resting on the beige seat circling the Dejarik table, the group of young and, at this point, pleasantly carefree friends, were finishing their last round of sabacc for the night. Some of them— Luke Skywalker, Wedge Antilles, Zev Senesca, and Kit Valent— only watched, taking in the sight of the players, silent in concentration, trying to make the best use of the cards they still held. The host of the day’s lovely meeting, and the maker of all the tasty meals they had consumed, Han Solo, was still in the game—thinking of his next move, analyzing his chances for the win, and considering which possible options could result in his defeat. Retaining his composure, every inch the gambler, he raised his hazel gaze from the deck of cards in his hand, investigating his opponents: _Chewbacca_ , the co-pilot of his ship, one of his closest friends, and a very competitive companion to play sabacc with; _Wes Janson_ , considered to be one of the best sabacc players on the Hoth base, a witty and outgoing guy; and, of course, the feisty princess _Leia Organa_ , who, as Han had noticed earlier, had a potential to outmatch Wes and become the most successful in sabacc among them…

Han decided this was the good moment to eliminate somebody from the round.

“‘M sorry pal, but I think you’re now outta the game,” he said mischievously, showing off one of his cards and grinning from ear to ear.

 _[Next time_ _you won’t have such a silly expression plastered on your face.]_ The Wookie growled and folded his furry arms behind his head.

Leia’s lips formed a small smile when she added courageously. “Don’t worry, Chewie. I think it may disappear very soon.”

Several minutes of cardplay passed with the three of them in deep focus.

It was Leia’s turn now. Her reluctance to make the move was completely invisible due to her specific sabaac face that she kept during the games. After all, she had lied to Vader's face, rather convincingly for someone who had been caught red-handed- what were a few Rogues? She slowly held her card out, feeling Han’s spirits rapidly diminishing. He looked into her eyes and searched for an explanation. This was a move he hadn’t reckoned on.

“How?” He asked in a daze with his jaw dropped.

“Maybe I’ll tell you later.” Her smile widened, evidence of her sheer amusement and pride. Eliminating Han Solo from a game of sabacc? Had she really accomplished such a thing?

But she hadn’t won yet. “I’m very sorry, Leia, but this is the end of the current round,” Wes informed her, showing his cards to his friends, and then threw them on the table in his typical eye-catching style. “You beat Han though. Congratulations.” He laughed amicably, clasping his palms in gesture of the victory and jubilance.

The princess only nodded. “Congratulations to you, too. Winner as always.” She shook hands with him, her grasp strong and adamant.

“Okay, we gotta go. We’ve got shifts tomorrow,” Zev Senesca reminded his friends, and got up from the seat.

Everybody except Han and Chewie started getting ready to leave the ship, when someone shouted. “Hey, Leia! It’s your turn to prepare food when we meet again! You remember?” Leia turned to see that it had been Wedge who made this clear, who wouldn’t let Leia forget about next week’s chore. Leia saw that he had been smiling in Luke’s direction while he reminded her. She rolled her eyes dramatically, acting like she wasn’t affected by his words.

“Of course I do! Wedge, you got yourself a double portion.” She wanted to play it easy, to pretend she knew she could do it and that her dinner would be likable. And if it wasn't, at least maybe she'd poison Wedge for preemptively mocking her. A smirk covered her lips. “Alright, so see you all next Zhellday!” She rushed to the ramp, and soon there was no sign of her presence on the freighter.

Zhellday. For more than two months Zhelldays had been special and anxiously awaited times for the bunch of Rebels. After establishing the base on Hoth, the Alliance personnel had had a lot to do to organize their jobs and lives again, and to adapt to the freezing climate on that snowy planet. Everybody had got their own fair share of stress, and the tension between the acquaintances, caused merely by the exhaustion and work, had been clearly palpable.

At some point one of them had insisted on having fun, relaxing; that was when Han had proposed that they meet on-board his ship once a week. Adding to the idea, he’d promised he would get some nice ingredients for them from his regular supply runs, stating that they deserved to eat something better than the mess hall food from time to time. Each one of them would have to prepare delicious meals for their meetings when it was their turn. On every Zhellday they would meet on the _Millennium Falcon_ , laugh, eat, drink wine, play sabacc, tell jokes and stories from the last few days, and just relax in each other’s company. These days had become very important to them, and their bond had grown since they’d developed this tradition.

Everybody had already played the part of a cook. Well, everybody besides Leia…

Han could only look after the princess and guess at the cause of her overly sudden departure. He would ask her later; it wasn’t true to her nature to be the first to leave their meetings, and that was why he got a bit worried. He closed his eyes, sighed audibly, then put his palms on his hips. After a few seconds his eyes opened, as he stared into the opened hatch his friend had crossed moments ago.

He would ask her later.

 

* * *

  

The next day turned out to be enormously demanding for Han. There had been work to do on the _Falcon_ : checking the hyperdrive engines, fixing the broken cannon in the left turret, and preparing the compartments for another supply run were not the only things on his list. To make things more complicated and busy, the leaders of the Alliance to Restore the Republic had held a meeting to discuss the upcoming mission to Ord Mantell. Solo, as one of the participants, had had an obligation to put in an appearance. In the afternoon he’d sat in the conference room, and that had been the first time that day he had seen Leia. To his eye, it was plain she had been feeling uneasy and stressed; her fingers had been sliding nervously on the table. She’d seemed like she hadn’t been willing to stay in the same place with him. She’d been averting her gaze from his gaze the whole time, and not a word had come out of her mouth. She had just listened to Mon Mothma’s and Jan Dodonna’s instructions, nodding her head or writing something on her flimsipad. He had wanted to talk to her, ask what had happened the day before that she had left so quickly. But she hadn’t let him, as after the meeting she’d got into conversation with Mon, and had left the room with her without even looking in Han’s direction.

And now he was sitting there, in his pilot chair, with the blue light above illuminating some book about transportation cruisers, trying persistently to change the chain of his thoughts. He didn’t want to be so concerned about Leia, and he knew she would tell him if something was wrong. Yet the feeling of incessant worry and curiosity why she’d been avoiding him today was hanging on to him for all of the evening, and he couldn’t help it.

He yawned and swiped to the next page in the datapad, not at all interested in its content, when Chewie came into the cockpit.

_[Hey, Han, I’m going to sleep now. Do you want me to raise the ramp for the night?]_

Han took his eyes off the book, and still dazed from his reverie, answered. “No, I’ll stay here for a while. Go to sleep. I’ll get it when I go to bed.”

As the Wookie was about to leave, he heard Han’s voice.

“Hey, pal. Umm… before you go, can you tell me one thing?”

_[Sure]_

Han closed the book and put it in his lap. “Did you… did you see Leia after the Alliance meeting?”

_[Somebody’s missing someone.]_

“It’s not about missing her! Will ya answer my question?”

 _[She was here, and she asked if she’d find you somewhere on the ship...]_ Chewie growled and crossed his arms. _[She came after you went to talk to Carlist.]_

Han looked shocked and angry. “Why didn’t you tell me?! Did she say she’d come back?!”

_[No, she didn’t. I didn’t tell you because you looked like you could get in a fight with a Wampa, you were so steamed up.]_

“Kriff, what if something happened?! What if she needed me?” He got up from his chair and started pacing the room restlessly.

 _[Buddy, she was alright, she looked fine. Maybe you could go to her?]_ Chewie proposed.

“No, I don’t wanna make her uncomfortable!” He looked at the hatch where his friend was standing. “You were going to sleep, right? I gotta finish something here.”

The Wookie only shrugged and got out of the cockpit, mumbling something quietly.

 

* * *

  

Minutes passed as Han failed miserably in his attempt to focus on the datapad. However, the task of trying to focus allowed his aggravation to dissipate, and he decided it was high time to take some rest. With the chronometer showing 2300 hours, he was about to pull up the ramp when he heard footsteps, like somebody was getting onboard.

“Han, are you here?”

It was Leia.

“Hey, sweetheart, I’m in the cockpit!” He shouted, a bit disengaged and surprised. _What is she doing here so late?_ He thought.

Han took in her appearance a moment later; she seemed tired and a little self-conscious. Even though he knew she didn’t feel completely fine, she was trying to hide her current mood with a shy smile.

“Hi,” she said, clasping her hands together and rubbing her thumb.

He was happy to see her. “Hey, Your Worship, what’s goin’ on? Don’t princesses sleep at such an hour?” Han smirked and pointed at the chair. “C’mon, take a sit.”

She wasn’t in the mood for jokes, her distress taking all of her energy to try to come up with a witty response.

“Thank you,” she simply said and sat up in the co-pilot chair.

“What happened? Today you didn’t look like you wanted to talk.” He sat too, and bent down, resting his forearms on his legs.

Leia didn’t know how she should answer. She was aware that there was a possibility her request might be disregarded by Han. She didn’t want to look weak, like she couldn’t manage to do something on her own, yet here she was, sitting in the _Millennium Falcon_ ’s cockpit, fighting with her inner voices telling her: _Don’t ask him, he’ll laugh at you_.

But somehow, she trusted him. Han was her friend, and she knew she could use his help in this case. She knew he wouldn’t think her problem was _funny_.

“Yes, I’m sorry for that. I… I felt uncomfortable. It wasn’t my best attitude.” She pursed her lips and looked away from him, searching for appropriate words. Han didn’t say anything, waiting for her explanation. He always wanted to listen. He didn’t put any pressure on her, instead of it he smiled encouragingly.

“You know, uh, I’m a little bit scared to ask you about something.” She looked him in the eye, wondering if she should continue. “It’s… I don’t want you to feel like I’ll burden you.”

“Just tell me what you want to tell. I know you’ve been here earlier, so I assume something’s on your mind.”

She took a deep breath, and exhaled it through her mouth. There was no point in denying it.

“Yes… Um… Han, as you know, the next week I’m the one who’s going to prepare a dinner for our Zhellday meeting...”

He started seeing what she was aiming at.

“I, I was wondering… Since I wasn’t really learned how to cook, and my skills are, not to say, _feeble_ , and yours… quite the opposite… I thought, maybe, you… maybe you would like to help me a bit?” She stared at him and saw a small smirk creeping at his lips. “Obviously if you don’t want to, just tell me, I-”

“Your Highness, I’d be honored,” he stopped her and grinned. “But,” he pointed with his forefinger, “there’s one condition which ‘m not sure you’ll want to make good on.”

“What is it?” She asked with curiosity.

“Well, I don’t know if Your Worship is willing to listen to my instructions in the kitchen…” He winked at her and received an audible sigh.

Her mood lightened, she teased. “If you're going to call me that, I understand why you're worried.”

“Sure, _Leia_ .” He got up from his chair. “I think you’re right.” The sudden realization hit him. “Hey, but there’s one more thing. Are you ready to… to break the rules and not cook the meals on _your_ own? Seriously?” He queried, his voice indicating a pure banter.

“I guess I can risk it, if it’s gonna get me an out-of-this-galaxy dinner and the reputation of the most talented cook of our group,” she replied, little by little getting more immersed in this duel of the witty temperaments, jostling to see who could come up with the better answer.

“The most talented cook? Do you think you can keep it secret that there were actually _two cooks_?”

“No problem.”

He nodded, let her get a slight satisfaction. “If you say so. Brace yourself then. We’re gonna make the best food the Alliance ever dreamed of.”

She laughed affectionately. “So now you’re admitting the one you prepared isn’t the best?”

 _Nah._ “Sweetheart, of course it is. I’d just say I can do even _better_.” He pointed at his chest. “Trust me.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” She smiled, rubbing her neck. A few quiet seconds passed, and then she fixed him with her stare. “Thank you, Han.”

_The next Zhellday promised to be an interesting event…_


End file.
